Tell Us About the Things You Wish You Could Unsee

This is going to be brief, my friends. I started writing another update, and it was kinda funny… so I decided to set it aside and give it some extra attention, as time permits. Kinda funny is rare, and needs to be protected.

Today is Wednesday, so I’ve got very little time here. I can’t just breeze into my job at 2:59, like I usually do. There’s a meeting, which cramps my style. Sucks. I’m the master of the 2:59 breeze-in. Oh well. As Custer said, we’ll just have to do the best we can.

On the internet people tend to use the same phrases over and over again. Especially on Facebook. They say things like “I see what you did there,” and “I just threw up in my mouth.” And a million other things. Hell, I’m guilty of it, too. I’m not criticizing, just observing.

One phrase I notice all the time is “I’ll never be able to unsee that!” And today… in this half-assed little endeavor, I’d like to know the things from your life you wish you could unsee.

Years ago, in Greensboro, NC, I was at a shitty dump of a bar, and walked into the men’s room. It was a disaster area in there, and some dude was trying to take a dump in a filthy out-in-the-open toilet. The seat had been ripped off the thing, probably in a wild Rolling Rock-fueled frenzy, and was lying across the room.

The guy was hovering and struggling, apparently drunk, with one hangin’. Time has a tendency to distort memories, but it seems like it was more than a foot long, still-attached, and swinging. As I innocently passed through the doorway, and my mind processed what was happening before me, I shouted, “NO!”

It was an involuntary reaction, some kind of primal survival thing. And as I was hollering, I was also turning to flee. It’s something I wish I could unsee. <full body shiver>

I also had a potbelly roommate once, who liked to walk around in nothing but his tighty-whities. I used to scream, “Good god, cover it up! I can see the outline of your dick!!” But he was apparently accustomed to this kind of thing, and I couldn’t break him of it. He also brushed his teeth and applied deodorant, all around the place. While sporting his tighties. It was horrifying, and I’m about to start dry-heaving just thinking about it.

And I’m going to turn it over to you guys now. What things from the past do you wish you could unsee? Please tell us about it in the comments section below.

I will NEVER be able to shake this image (and every once in a while, my nasal lining will singe on the rememberd putrid stench): An old homeless woman on the subway with smelly yellow pus oozing out of her legs and some girl sitting mere inches away nonchalantly eating french fries dipped in ketchup.

Then my brain kicks in. No bitch you aren’t stressed. In know exactly what you are doing and have due. It’s the same thing at the same time every year. you know exactly what’s going to happen and how to deal with it. This guy you’re working on has to drive a busted up van full of Duke Head’s and ex-cons asking for people to move out of the way so he can take their garbage.

I remember having a discussion with my wife about the breastfeeding kerfuffle a few years back, which culminated in some lady saying “my husband or son might see a breast that they didn’t want to see”. I opined at the time that there was no breast I didn’t want to see.

Good truffle oil is expensive, but well worth it (if you like truffles) Try the Tuscan black ones. They’re every bit as good as the French white (I think) and they’re half the price. Someone told me that Trader Joe’s isn’t half bad. Seriously, try it again. I agree that cheap truffle oil tastes like shit and would put me off of it.
If you can find it, try truffle salt. There is nothing better on a barbecued steak.

Never had truffle stuff. I do know that it takes a team of highly trained and specialized pigs to find the the things so I can see why they are expensive. Although there was a little girl across the street who like to stuff mud up here nose so who knows.

Many years ago there was a club in San Francisco called the Kennel Klub. They used to have great punk shows and the place was a dump.
I can’t remember who was playing this particular night, but I walked into the women’s bathroom and there was two women standing up and pissing on the wall. Like men. The were holding themselves somehow and were able to stream like they had dicks. It was like a trainwreck – I just couldn’t look away.
Gawd, I haven’t thought about that in forever. Thanks, Jeff.

I was photographing a wedding when — just before she was to walk down the aisle — the excessively corpulent bride shrieked that she forgot to ‘powder her thighs.’
The bridesmaids herded her back to the room and did the deed. Pictures were requested.

I was about 11-12 years old and out collecting money for my paper route at Christmas time (always the best b/c of the tips, cookies, etc.) and one of the sweet older ladies on my route was the best at both. $20 tips and a jug o’ cookies every year. But this particular year she was extra old and senile – when she opened the door her pants had fallen to her ankles presumably by accident and she just stood there with the bucket o’ cookies, a $20 bill, and the largest, most hairiest, heddgehog of a muff flapping in the breeze. I think her snatch was about 10″ wide by 18″ high by 8″ in length sticking straight out at me. I still get the full body shiver thinking about it. And yes, I ate the cookies after doing a full pubic hair search

I wish I could unsee the movie The Human Centipede and then unsee what I read about The Human Centipede part two. I swore they couldn’t have come up with anything more gross to top the first one…I was wrong.

The first one wasn’t so bad.
The second one was horrible. It tried too hard, like when the fetus shot out of the woman’s baby chute, landed under the gas pedal, she stomped on the gas pedal to get away, crushed the baby head like a nerf ball.

My sister’s tits.12 or 13 I’d guess. Not the number of tits or the number of times for that matter. Once was enough. That’s how old I was. She’s three years older than me and I was already well aware tits were worth getting to see. Just NOT my sister’s. It was one of those ‘getting ready for school’ chance meetings as we passed in the hallway to and from the bathroom. I had just gotten up and most likey was sportin’ a boner under my jammies so we got a lot of weirdness out of the way that day.

And I just re-read it, and realize you’re even crazier (or gayer) than I thought — it’s YOU who was 12 or 13, so she was 15 or 16. Prime titty-viewing age for a male, prime titty-sporting age for a female.

When I was a kid, I watched somebody’s kitten get run over by a jerk who had a huge pickup truck. The owner tried to stop him before he rolled on by, but it was too late. I screamed when I saw the poor thing disappear under front wheel. When I saw it again, its back half was flopping up and down like a fish out of water… I want to unsee that so much.

I guess I could do without seeing that little tiny doggie’s eye popping out when the car in front of me ran over its head, 2 jerks sitting in the front seat just talking and laughing. I don’t think they even knew what they had done. Sure didn’t care, anyway. I am a retired ICU nurse. Can’t begin to enumerate all I would like to unsee. Very little I would like to undo, thankfully, and even when that tries to mess me with me, I realize there was nothing else could have been done or should have been done in every instance.

And Em–that flopping was from nerve reflex, not from any awareness the little thing had. Try PSTEC track clicks. You can get the free download. It’s weird but it helps. I still can’t get through an entire session but then I’ve got other issues. And it still helps.

Unseeing funny stuff? Well, that time my parents and I were on a country drive and my bladder was about to pop, and we stopped at the only gas station for miles around–the toilet contents were barely contained in the bowl, no seat on the thing, but it was the only port in the storm, so to speak. And then my mom, ever the fussy clean freak, flushed it, dammat. I still remember the toilet paper clogged yellow and brown brew rising, rising, across the edge of the bowl, as we turned and ran….and the only thought going through my mind was how bad my bladder hurt already, and how that explained the brown stains and wet places on the filthy floor of that place….

There’s a picture that I’d like to unsee, Well–it’s a TYPE of picture I’d like to unsee. People who have their faces shorn off by some type of horrible misfortune–car accident, Jack the Ripper, crazy-ass guy high on bath salts, whatever. There’s just something about seeing a person WITH NO FACE!!!!! that fucks me up. And as I sit and type this (in the college Art department), there’s a picture that’s quite good (Van Gogh style), but the FUCKING FACE IS MISSING!!!! there’s nothing there but weird fucked-up swirls.

I don’t get it–I’ve seen more childbirth/VD/other medical films for classes (and the occasional “freak” TV show), but nothing puts me into a tizzy than no face.

Okay, that Further Evidence link? I thought “okay, milking–this could be interesting….in a lactating porn sort of freak show thing.” But …damn. I could see pudding, or honey–something to draw the flies and bees to these numbskulls. But just milk? I guess they took that old jingle of “Milk likes you.” a little too far.

My 350 lb female neighbor used to cut across my backyard to go to her Mama’s house. She dropped something one day on her way across my backyard and bent over to pick it up. She was not wearing underwear under her dress. It was a hairy fat mess under that dress.

I moonlight as a part-time coin dealer, so every once in a while someone will call me and ask me to go to their house to appraise (or buy) a coin collection because they cannot drive, or they are disabled (which normally means they weigh 500 pounds), or they can’t carry a big box full of coins, etc.

A few years ago, a guy called me from a nearby town and he spoke like he had a mouth full of cotton. He had some coins to sell and warned me that he had an “industrial accident” and his face was horribly disfigured. I went there and bought his coins and he absolutely did not have a face, no eyes, no nose, forehead all caved in. It was awful to see, but he was a really nice guy. I found out later that he tried to off himself with a shotgun to the roof of his mouth but was not successful. Very sad.

Additionally, I worked for a funeral home from age 16 to college senior, saw burned bodies, car accidents, a hanging suicide, rotten dead people who had floated in the river for a week in summer, a guy who was crushed by a train, a guy who went through a coal crusher in a mine, a woman who actually did blow her own head off with a shot gun, and more. I do have a strong stomach. By the way, I did not go to mortuary school and now work in technical sales.

I rented a room in a house in LA from a woman who was an obese, extreme hoarder. Every morning, she would parade through the dining room table in a threadbare nighty. The sun rising behind her hairy, lumpen profile revealed all of her glory in extreme detail. I spooned my cereal into my mouth as she dug under the coffee table for her box of wine. Franzia was her favorite. This ritual repeated itself daily for about a year. The rent was cheap, and I was broke. I cry at every sunrise.

I had a buddy who went to Key West during Mardi Gras. He was showing us photos of a party he and his girlfriend attended at which they wore costumes that were body painted. He was an elephant and it took a minute to realize the trunk was not painted on his body, it was his appendage. It was about the size of an elephant’s trunk.

This was about 10 years ago and I’m still shaking my head as I type this.

When we were kids there was an old man that would bring my mom a chicken about once a week or so. I remember helping her pluck them. One day my dad came home and told her to stop accepting the chickens. When she asked why he said, “because he does things to them.” She kept probing and he finally said something about him “jacking all over the chickens.” My brother and I thought this was hilarious and nearly pissed our pants laughing.

A while later I was walking back from the store and the old man was sitting on a folding chair, a chicken on the ground between his legs. He was jacking off and he looked right at me and started nodding real fast and he kept saying, “That’s right! That’s right!” Talk about a nightmare.

Also, there was a recent picture on the bunker cam of a man with a phone in his ass.

I may have to reconsider visiting the site on my lunch break if we keep thes topics up…

There are a couple things I wish I could unsee, all because of the internet: 2 girls 1 cup, and the BME pain olympics are at the top of that list. FOR THE LOVE OF GOD, if you don’t know what they are, keep it that way and save yourself the misery.